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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072620">The Sister and The Inspector</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerLadyshipGJ/pseuds/HerLadyshipGJ'>HerLadyshipGJ</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Father Brown (2013)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:54:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,066</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerLadyshipGJ/pseuds/HerLadyshipGJ</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sister Boniface finds Inspector Valentine sitting in the vineyard.  Their conversation opens up a whole new world for the pair.  </p><p>Currently, this is pre-relationship.  I will modify the rating if/when the rating goes up</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sister Boniface/Inspector Valentine (Father Brown)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Vineyard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>DISCLAIMER:  I do not own Father Brown, or any other recognizable characters. This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Father Brown world, which is trademarked by the BBC.  The story that I tell here is my own invention, and is not purported or believed to be part of the Father Brown canon. I am not profiting in any way from the creation or publication of this story.  I am grateful to the creators of Father Brown, because without the books and television series, this story would not exist.</p><p>I don't think that either Sister Boniface's or Inspector Valentine's name or even initials have ever been mentioned in the series.  Therefore, I have dubbed him Alexander, and her Lilith.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sister Boniface walked down the long rows of vines, inspecting the still unripe grapes in the late afternoon sun.  She was a long way from the convent, but she wasn’t afraid. It was her duty to check the vines for ripeness and to make sure the wire fence hadn’t been breached. She felt a sense of safety on the grounds, as though God was protecting her from the world outside. She took these walks nightly, often arriving home by torchlight. Touching the familiar metal implement in her hand, she moved on.</p><p>She noticed the car from quite a distance away.  It was parked on the side of the road, and she could see a man sitting on the overlook at the end of the row, obviously having climbed up the hill to look out over the valley.  He had removed his hat and jacket, as well as his dress shirt; she could see them lying neatly nearby.  He was clad in a sleeveless undershirt and trousers, letting the sun warm his bare shoulders.  He had been there before; she had always left him alone to his thoughts, but today she thought the man looked familiar. As she silently moved closer, she could see the face of the man smoking and realized she did recognize him.  It was the Inspector who had questioned her after Sister Paul (that odious woman, God rest her soul) had died.  Valentine she thought.  Inspector Valentine.</p><p>“Who’s there?” Valentine asked, his normally husky voice even more gruff.  He hadn’t turned his head, so she must have made more noise than she thought.  Darn it.  No time to run.</p><p>“It’s Sister Boniface, Inspector.”  She tried to sound cheerful, as though she hadn’t been spying and was not now looking at a partially clothed man.  Be calm, she told herself. </p><p>“Oh, good.  I thought it was Father Brown, coming to give me more advice.”  He turned to look at her, climbing between the wires, her veil catching on the metal spikes.  Hastily she fixed herself as she stood.</p><p>“Father Brown left some time ago, sir.  I think he was going back to the Presbytery.”  She moved closer, before boldly sitting down an appropriate distance away. This was not strictly forbidden, surely. He was on convent grounds. Still, she was certain Mother Augustin would not be pleased to know she was socializing with a man.  An unmarried man, she corrected herself, after glancing at his left hand. Even worse.</p><p>The man next to her grinned, amused.  “I don’t bite, Sister.” He stretched his arm out and handed her his cigarette, She took a couple of drags.  Another sin, she thought. She hadn’t felt the hit of nicotine in years. Before she took orders, in fact.</p><p>She felt her face flame. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t speak to many men; at least, other than the Father.” She cautiously moved closer, handing back his cigarette.  It was interesting that he didn’t offer her one, but was willing to share with her. Odd.</p><p>“I realize I am not supposed to be up here.  Don’t tell the Reverend Mother.” He smiled at her, and she felt her guard lower somewhat. </p><p>“Mother Augustin has given us all the evening off for prayer and reflection. No one ever comes this far out except me. Especially not this late in the day.”  She tried to reassure him, before realizing he wasn’t at all concerned. Honestly, what would the Reverend Mother do-order a policeman off their land for sitting in the grass?</p><p>Valentine looked out over the valley silently.  Boniface tried to do likewise, but curiosity got the best of her.</p><p>“Inspector, what will happen to them?  The Evans’, I mean.”</p><p>“Mrs. Evans will be sent to an asylum, I would imagine.  She isn’t well, and the courts will take that into account.  As far as Tom, he will serve a short sentence, but will be out shortly. Long before her, I would imagine.” </p><p>“It doesn’t seem fair.” Sister Boniface blurted.  “She had her baby taken from her; I can’t imagine any woman not losing her mind a little bit.”</p><p>“So the courts should just let her go?  She killed two people, Sister. While one could argue that Sister Paul was someone who hurt others as a matter of routine, Sister Mary Magdalene was a true innocent.  Neither of them deserved what happened to them. An asylum would be more kind to her than prison. Her husband will at least be able to visit her there.”</p><p>“I’m not saying that. I know that there has to be justice.  I’m just saying that the system that took her baby from her led to this.  She wasn’t given a choice about where she had the baby; she was poor and unmarried.  There was nowhere else to go.  Afterward she didn’t have a choice about having her baby taken away from her: Sister Paul saw to that. Mrs Evans should have had a choice.”</p><p>Valentine looked at her, his expression serious.  “Where would she have gone with a baby in tow? She couldn’t have found gainful employment; no one would have hired her. You realize you are talking about the Church, Sister.  The Church, your church created that system.”</p><p>“I know that.  It still isn’t fair.  Women have to give up so much to have any sense of security.  They have to give up their babies, their lives.”  She clamped her mouth closed, looking away. This conversation was veering too closely to home for her comfort.  She had never had a child, but the feeling of being powerless, of being subject to the will of others was all too familiar territory.</p><p>Silence fell over the pair, as they watched the sun start to set.</p><p>“What would you be if not a nun, Sister?”  Valentine’s voice was quiet.</p><p>“I don’t know.  I am not really cut out to be a housewife”, she grinned faintly.  “Joining the sisterhood has allowed me to go to University and have a useful profession.  I knew I wanted to go to University, and there was no money for a daughter to be educated in my family. I am lucky, I suppose.”  She paused, weighing her next statement.  “You know, just because I am Catholic, it doesn’t mean I agree with everything the Church preaches.  You’re a policeman.  Surely you don’t believe every law on the books is right and just. Surely, you have seen times when the law is just bloody unfair.”  She blushed and looked away.  “Sorry.”</p><p>Valentine chuckled.  “You’re right, of course. To some degree, I have the ability to look away.  I haven’t arrested every shoplifter, or every pair of men I catch cavorting in the bushes.”  It was his turn to look away now.  What was it about this woman that made him lose complete control of his tongue?</p><p>Boniface snorted inelegantly and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.“Inspector, I didn’t come out of the womb wearing a habit.  Honestly, I have never really understood why homosexuality is a sin. If the Church preaches love, why should I care if they are the same gender? The Evans were punished for their love, and they are man and woman. Mrs Evans wasn’t spared the pain of losing her baby, created by that love. Her loss was sanctioned by the Church. We need more love in this world. Sometimes, I think the Church is a bit contradictory.”</p><p>“Only sometimes?” Valentine asked, grinning.  He reached out and handed her his cigarette again.  She smiled and took a couple of drags before handing it back to him. They went silent again.  Boniface realized this silence was when he was getting ready to ask a question that he thought might upset her.  She waited.</p><p>“Do you think you will always be a nun? I mean, have you ever thought about leaving?” Valentine asked.  “You seem to have an objective, scientific mind.  It seems a waste to keep it shuttered up in a convent.”  Valentine watched her brows lower.  Shit.  He might have gone too far that time. He opened his mouth to apologize, but closed it again.  Actually, he wasn’t sorry. It was a waste. She would have made a formidable policewoman. Plus, he was beginning to understand that lying to this woman would be pointless.</p><p> Boniface took a deep breath before speaking.</p><p>“I’m not offended, Inspector.  Honestly, I think it’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, if a bit of a backhanded compliment.  Yes, there are times that I wish that I could find a way to use my skills, a bit like Father Brown does. I know he probably tries your patience, but an inquisitive mind is not always a welcome thing in religious life. The Father has paid a significant price for what you call his interference in terms of his advancement.  However, it’s a price he is willing to pay in order to use his intellect to those he is entrusted to care for. Of course, Father Brown is a man, and not subject to the same rules that govern me. These walls are a haven, but they can sometimes feel like a prison.”</p><p>“Aren’t there convents where you can leave and work outside? I thought there were.” Valentine was an avowed athiest, but he knew there were nuns that taught or worked in hospitals.</p><p>“There are, but St Agnes is not one of them.  I would need special dispensation from the Bishop, which is highly unlikely. Father Brown is a thorn in the Bishop’s side.  Can you imagine me going around dressed like this, solving crimes?” Her voice was full of disappointment.</p><p>Actually, Valentine could see it only too easily.  He could also see the Bishop going into paroxysms at the thought of a Bride of Christ wearing full habit interrogating a suspect.</p><p>A thought occurred to him.  Standing, he put his shirt back on, pretending not to notice her watching him out of the corner of her eye.  Picking up his jacket, he turned to her.</p><p>“Would there be any rule against me coming to ask for your assistance for problems requiring a chemist?”</p><p>“Do you not have a chemist at the police station, sir?” She accepted his assistance to get to her feet, and bent over to brush the grass from her habit. When she looked at him again, her eyes danced.</p><p>“Yes, but they are quite busy. Perhaps, in the interest of time, of course, I might call on you to examine some evidence.”  </p><p>“You know where I work, Inspector.” With a final smile at each other, they parted. </p><p> As she made her way back to the convent, Sister Boniface tried to hide her glee.  She believed she had made a friend, and might even have the chance to help on another case.  She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but if she could help in any way it would be a welcome relief from the monotony of her daily life.  She would have to say a prayer for guidance in this matter.  In addition, she now had a name to add to her daily prayers for safety and blessing.</p><p>Detective Inspector Alexander Valentine.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Inspector Returns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Inspector Valentine returns, and a long held dream of Boniface's is revealed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She saw the car before she saw him, sitting in the same spot of the vineyards overlooking the cliffs.  Jacket and tie once again lying neatly beside him, his shirt sleeves were rolled to just below his elbows.  She noticed the slight stiffening of his back when he registered her presence, but then relaxed.</p><p>“Good evening, Sister.”</p><p>“Good evening Inspector.”</p><p>She sat down and accepted the cigarette before handing it back to him.  Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small flask and handed it to him.</p><p>“Wine?”</p><p>She grinned.  “Only lemonade, I’m afraid. It is cold, though.”</p><p>Valentine took the flask and opened it, drinking deeply before handing it back. He was silent for a minute, taking in the valley below.</p><p>“You knew I would be here.” A statement, not a question. He still hadn’t looked at her.</p><p>She nodded, knowing he would be able to see the movement out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“I heard that the young girl was found.  The sisters and I looked all over the vineyard grounds just in case she had strayed out here. We were relieved to hear she was unharmed.”</p><p>“What else did you hear?” His voice was gruff, the normal huskiness tinged with irritation.</p><p>“Mrs McCarthy told Mother Augustin that she was safe.  We were told right before afternoon prayers.  If there was anything else, I didn’t hear about it.”</p><p>He shook his head. “Mrs McCarthy is a menace. She whipped up such fear in the village.  It’s a miracle someone didn’t hurt the girl.”</p><p>She turned her head to look at him suddenly, staring right into those piercing blue eyes. “What did she say?”</p><p>“You mean, besides call her a leper and use scripture to say she should be banished from town?” Valentine nodded at her gasp. “Exactly. Father Brown had to intervene.”</p><p>Boniface took a sip of the lemonade, trying to organize her thoughts.</p><p>Valentine lay back, staring at the sky. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke. </p><p>“How can you and Mrs McCarthy be so different, yet so similar?”   He turned slightly, touching her hand. “I don’t mean you are similar in personality. You are both devoutly religious, yet she is so judgmental, and you are exactly the opposite.”</p><p>Boniface tried not to grimace.  “When I first came to the order from France four years ago, Mrs McCarthy was very vocal that the town didn’t need more immigrants.  It took Mother Augustin showing her my birth certificate to convince her I was born in England.  She still doesn’t care for me; she says I am too educated and ask too many questions.”<br/>He smiled. “Better to have questions rather than jump to conclusions.”  </p><p>“I’ve always thought so. Mrs McCarthy seems very settled though; I admit to feeling restless much of the time.”</p><p>He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow.  She did likewise.</p><p>“You don’t plan on leaving, do you?  I mean, leaving the area.”</p><p>She shook her head. “I am needed here to look after the vines.  Once harvest is over, I may ask to be given leave to do some missionary work or something.  The routine is getting to me.”  She paused.  “Please don’t tell Father Brown that. He has been so gracious to me, bringing me books to read.  I just don’t want to disappoint him.” She lay back on her back, unable to meet his gaze.</p><p>“What would you do if you had the choice?  I mean, if you could do anything, other than be a nun? I know I have asked you before, but I felt like you were holding something back.”</p><p>“I would write mysteries.” Her words came without conscious thought, but she blushed when she realized what she had said and to whom.  “I mean, I have never really written much, and I don’t have any experience in solving crime, just what I‘ve read. They probably wouldn’t be very good.”</p><p>“You ask good questions, and think objectively. Your books would probably be better than you realize.”</p><p>She sat up, handing him the flask to finish. Getting to her feet, she stammered, “I’m sorry for telling you all of my problems.  I hope you have a good night.”</p><p>“Sister, wait!”  He called as she hurried away.  She ignored him, half running back to the convent.  Once inside, she went to her room and threw herself on her bed, sobbing.  Why did she have to give voice to her thoughts? What was it about him that made her mind go all foggy and have her blurting out things she shouldn’t even think about?”</p><p>Hours later, Mother Augustin walked by the door, peering in the window to see Sisiter Boniface asleep. The tear streaks on her cheeks were visible even from a distance. Finishing her rounds, she returned to her office to think. She had seen Boniface’s restlessness, her yearning to be outside the walls of the convent. Recognizing the signs, she turned to walk down the corridor into the chapel.  She needed to pray for guidance.</p><p>fbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbffbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbf</p><p>Two days later , Sister Boniface returned from mass to find a parcel wrapped in brown paper on the desk of her lab.  Confused, she opened it slowly to reveal a leather-bound folio with a stack of paper and several pencils. A stack of files were tucked in the left hand pocket.  Opening the top one, she realized they were copies of old police files with witness statements and investigation notes, clearing up who the parcel was from.</p><p>  Heart pounding, she saw the white linen envelope as she folded up the brown paper for later use.  Taking in the unfamiliar handwriting, she carefully opened the note inside.</p><p>B-</p><p>It’s the plot twists in life that make the best stories. I look forward to answering many questions next week. If you have any before then, call me.</p><p>-Alex</p><p>She picked up the card with his title and the phone number to the police station.  Turning it over, a home phone number was neatly printed on the back.  He had given her his private phone number. A purely girlish delight went through her mind before she came to her senses and tucked the card in the folio and left it on the desk.  Turning, she walked out the door closing it behind her.</p><p>Moments later, she hurried back into the lab, grabbed the note and card, slipping both into her pocket. Slowly, she made her way downstairs for dinner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The rH factor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Boniface helps solve a case from within the walls of the convent. Did you know nuns read erotica? Neither did Valentine.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sister Boniface ignored Mother Augustin standing silently in the corner of her lab and turned her attention to the two policemen in the room.</p><p>“In conclusion, although the two samples share the same Type A blood group, this sample is what we refer to as rH negative, while this one is rH positive.  Therefore, they can not both be from the victim, as she is rH positive.  This sample, she pointed to the bloodied cricket bat, is not from the victim.  Therefore, you either have a second victim, or it the perpetrator..”</p><p>“Couldn’t the rain have washed the rH away?” a constable asked. Behind the constable, Inspector Valentine’s blue eyes were twinkling with laughter.</p><p>Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Boniface shook her head.  That’s not how it works.”</p><p>“Are you sure?  It was raining really hard.”  The constable looked unconvinced.</p><p>“Absolutely certain.  You may confirm my findings with the police surgeon if you would like.”</p><p>Carefully packaging up the samples, she handed them to the constable who took them reluctantly and left the room.  Once he was gone, Valentine chuckled.</p><p>“There is an experiment for you.  Wash the rH off.”  He grinned at her, and she fought to keep from laughing herself.</p><p>“I rather think it is an indictment of the police academy’s curriculum, Inspector.”  </p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>There was silence, the only sound was the hiss of the Bunsen burner. Boniface turned it off reluctantly.</p><p>“If there is nothing else, Sister Boniface has duties to attend to.” Mother Augustin’s no-nonsense voice broke the silence.</p><p>“Of course. Sister, I have some pictures for you to look at on a different case.  Tell me if anything looks odd to you. You can call me later tonight if you have time. My number is in the file.” Valentine turned to leave, thanking them both for their time.</p><p>Boniface took the familiar brown file, so similar to the ones he had given her the week before.  Valentine had come by, usually with Father Brown, to discuss cases with her.  At first, they sat in the chapel, which was odd when one was discussing semen stains and blood spray patterns. They had then moved to her lab. This was the first time he had come alone, if one discounted the rather dim constable at his side.</p><p>The nuns followed the Inspector out of the convent before turning toward the chapel for prayers.  Mother Augustin deliberately tried to ignore the spring in her young friend’s step. Boniface had come alive with the intellectual stimulation and attention from the Inspector. While she desperately wanted to stop Boniface’s involvement with the police and keep her close, she knew that God might be directing her in a different path.  She would just have to support and guide her as best she could.</p><p>fbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbffbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbfbffbfbfbf</p><p> </p><p>Inspector Valentine had just made coffee and was settling into his overstuffed armchair when the phone rang with a case file.  Reaching for the phone, he answered gruffly, “Valentine”.</p><p>“Inspector?  Have I called at a bad time?  Only it’s just gone eight and you did say to call. I’m sorry, I’ll hang up now.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine.  Sister Boniface!” he shouted into the receiver.  </p><p>“Yes, Inspector?”  she seemed confused, as though he had called her. Valentine realized she probably didn’t have reason to use the phone very often, especially to call men. Her innocence was really quite sweet.</p><p>“You wanted to tell me something?”  </p><p>“What?  Oh! Yes, I saw something.  Well, I think that I saw something, but maybe it isn’t anything at all really.”</p><p>“Sister? Should I come over? You seem a bit on edge.”</p><p>“Sir?  No!  No, I don’t need you to come visit. I’m in my nightdress and it wouldn’t be appropriate, but I don’t think you really need to know that, do you? Goodness.”</p><p>Valentine grinned, and tried not to laugh into the phone.</p><p>“In that case, take a deep breath.  Then tell me about the photos.”</p><p>“Yes, of course.  Well, it isn’t what’s there but what isn’t there, you see.  Do you have the photos, in front of you I mean?”</p><p>Valentine pulled out the photos.  “I do.”</p><p>“Well, you see, she isn’t dressed fully.  I mean, not like she should be.”</p><p>“Because she isn’t in a habit?” he teased.</p><p>“What?  Well, no. She isn’t in a habit, obviously. But what I mean is that she doesn’t have stockings on, you see.” Boniface’s voice had slowed, and Valentine could hear the photos  as she flipped through them.</p><p>“And that signifies?”</p><p>“Well, she had garters, which hold up stockings but no stockings. Which is odd, because why would she wear a garters if she didn’t need them? No, I think the stockings were used to bind her in some way and then taken from the scene.  Unless you found them.”</p><p>“We didn’t, but she wasn’t wearing a garter either.”</p><p>“Its the pink thing on the dresser. Do you see it? You can see the straps.”</p><p>Valentine pulled out a magnifier and examined the photo.  Boniface was correct, it was a garter.</p><p>“So as a woman, what does that mean to you?” He realized she was on to something.</p><p>“Well, nylons are still sort of expensive, aren’t they?  I don’t wear them, but I have seen the adverts. Look at her clothes, they aren’t expensive.  Yet, she has a garter that looks like silk, and you wouldn’t want to put cheap nylons on a garter like that.”</p><p>“Do you think she bought that garter to impress a lover?” Dear god, this was odd to be asking a nun about this.</p><p>“No.  I think it may have been a gift from a lover, or someone who wanted to be.  She would have taken care not to damage it.  Plus, cheap nylons would have left marks on her wrists where they rubbed.  More expensive ones wouldn’t.”</p><p>“So, what are you saying? She was held down and tied up with her own stockings? We didn’t see marks, and if she was struggling I still think there would have been marks.  No matter how fine the material.”</p><p>There was a pause.  Then Boniface asked quietly, “What if she wasn’t struggling?  What if this was some sort of game where she wasn’t tied tightly but just enough to restrict her movement?”</p><p>“If it were a game, he could have just held her down.”</p><p>“Not if he wanted to use his hands.  What if he wanted her to be complacent so he could act out a fantasy? To do that, he didn’t want her to struggle.”</p><p>She went quiet.  Valentine knew that there had to be more.  He waited.</p><p>“Inspector, I may have performed some unauthorized tests on the blood left over from the typing.”</p><p>Valentine’s heart skipped a beat. “What did you find?”</p><p>“Heroin. Quite good quality, as it happens. And a lot of it.”</p><p>“Why didn’t our police surgeon find it?” Davis was an excellent surgeon, it was inconceivable he would have missed something this big.</p><p>“There is no evidence that he looked for it.  She was strangled, and that is what he focused on.”</p><p>“What made you look for it?”</p><p>“Well, she had no alcohol in her blood. So it just made sense.”</p><p>What made no sense was her convoluted logic. Valentine sighed and leaned back in his chair.  “Walk me through this. No twisty rambles, just straight through.”</p><p>Boniface was silent on the other end of the line.  He waited, then said, ‘Sister, I will come over there and make you explain it to me.  Somehow, I don’t think you want to discuss this with me face to face.”</p><p>Quietly, she said, “No, Inspector. But a lot of this is just supposition.”</p><p>“You have good instincts. Start at the beginning and explain your thoughts as you go.”</p><p>She took a deep breath.  “Right. This is how I think it happened.” She paused. “Have you ever read Lulu and Lucia? Probably not. It’s a book for ladies.”</p><p>“Is it a romance? I don’t read those.” he smiled.</p><p>“No. Not exactly.  Well, it is a book about Lulu and Lucia and their conquests.  It was banned in several countries I think.”</p><p>“Is this important?”</p><p>“I think it might be.”</p><p>“Start at the beginning, Boniface.” He deliberately avoided calling her Sister and reminding her she was a nun. He suspected that would shut her down.</p><p>“Okay, well. So, Mrs Robbins is middle aged and widowed. Her husband died several years ago, and no one could find evidence she was dating, correct?”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>“So, what if she met a man secretly, without anyone knowing? Kembleford is a gossipy community. I wouldn’t blame her.  So, anyway.  Let’s say she meets this man, who for whatever reason she tries to keep secret.  They meet for drinks and whatever.  Then he wants to take it further, and she agrees.”</p><p>“So they do.”</p><p>“No. Not so quickly.  Mrs. Davis hasn’t dated in a long time and she is nervous about this. Especially if he is a man she is trying to keep secret.  She takes something to help her relax, maybe a Valium or something.”</p><p>“Valium isn’t heroin.”</p><p>“Yes, I know.  Stop interrupting.”  She could hear him chuckle.</p><p>“So she puts on her best dress, and the garters and stockings.  Maybe he sent them to her as a gift in advance, or maybe she splurged to give her courage. They meet, and they have dinner, or whatever. I think they may have gone dancing.”</p><p>“There is no evidence of that.” Valentine interjected.</p><p>“Inspector, if you want me to explain then stop interrupting please.”</p><p>“Of course, I am sorry. Go ahead.” He was getting interested in the story she was weaving.</p><p>“So they get back, but she is still nervous. So he gives her heroin, which is prescription only, but works to lower her inhibitions. She takes off her stockings and garter and they get in bed.  When the heroin kicks in, she is relaxed and they are playing around.  He playfully ties her wrists, and they have sex.  What he doesn’t notice because he is busy is that between the valium and the heroin, her breathing decreases to a dangerous level.  When he playfully wraps his hands around her throat, it cuts off what little oxygen she was getting and she died.  He panics, takes the stockings and leaves.”</p><p>“Fanciful story, B.  But not supportable,  I am afraid.”<br/>“Quiet.  I am about to give you the evidence.  Look at the pictures of her on the bed.  The one where you can see the mirror.”</p><p>  She waited for his affirmation.</p><p>“In the book Lulu and Lucia, Lulu and the gigolo do the very same thing: take heroin and have sex where they both orgasm from the strangulation, her from the act and him from the pleasure of causing it.  They use peacock feathers, burn purple candles for allurement, and use stockings warm from her skin. She wears a green dress. Do you see those items?”</p><p>They were there.  All of them. Valentine’s mouth dropped.</p><p>“This could be a coincidence, of course.  Still, I am willing to bet that at least one of them read the book.  The items are too unrelated. Plus, there is a copy of the book on the nightstand.”  She finished with a flourish.</p><p>He was silent for a minute, taking it in. From a convent, an inexperienced nun had just solved a sex crime.  Unbelievable.  Still, one thing niggled in his mind.</p><p>“B, are you telling me that you read erotica there at the convent?”</p><p>“Are you serious?  I give you a description of the crime, and that’s what you focus on?”</p><p>Now it was her turn for silence. Then, “Inspector, you can not tell Mother Augustin or anybody else about this.  You have to act like you got this information from someone else.  I will be in so much trouble if they find out.”</p><p>“Of course. But you have to tell me-which story is your favorite?”</p><p>“We are not discussing this, and I have to go.  I hear Mother Augustin climbing the stairs.”</p><p>“Sister, tell me.  His voice was commanding, and she whispered before she hung up.</p><p>“Lulu with the Inspector in the woods.” The line went dead.</p><p>Valentine grinned as he placed the receiver back in the cradle.  It looked like he had a potential solution to a baffling death, and he had new leads to follow in the morning.  But he had a new mission first thing when the shops opened.</p><p>He had to get a copy of that book.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sister Boniface gets the opportunity to leave the convent for a few months. She and Valentine meet again-misunderstandings ensue.</p>
<p>Author's Note: This story has been on a bit of a hiatus. I could make excuses, but basically: I lost my confidence.  Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments. You have given me the courage to continue. -GJ</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Please see part 1 for full disclaimer. Basically, I own nothing and am making no money off of this story. I just hope people like it.</p>
<p>______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sister Boniface was patiently organizing the last bottles of the season in the cellar, turning the older bottles exactly one quarter turn to the right and ensuring the newest bottles were positioned in the riddling rack with their labels up. Satisfied, she turned and hurried out of the cold area, ignoring her shivers with practiced ease. One mustn’t complain about the cold when there were so many who had nowhere to lay their head. Mother Augustin’s oft-repeated words rang in her ears as she slowed her steps and opened the door to the main common room.</p>
<p>“Sister, Mother Augustin is looking for you.” Sister John touched her arm, startling Boniface out her reverie. She lowered her voice.“Father Brown is with her, and I think he has some project for you. He had her Ladyship’s driver bring him instead of riding his bicycle.”</p>
<p>“It is rather chilly out for cycling,” Boniface tried to remain calm, but her heart was secretly racing.  Forcing herself to walk calmly down the long corridor, she smoothed invisible wrinkles out of her habit as she knocked at the wooden door leading into Mother Augustin’s office. She could hear quiet voices inside, both male and female. The door opened, and she walked moved quietly inside.</p>
<p>“Sister Boniface, please sit down.”  Mother Augustin’s expression was neutral, giving nothing away. The younger nun looked nervously around, sitting in a hard-backed chair folding her hands in her lap. </p>
<p>After exchanging pleasantries, Father Brown turned to her, a smile on his gentle face.  “Sister Boniface, I would like to make an offer to you.  Mother Augustin informed me just now that your duties at the winery will be decreased dramatically now that the bottles have been laid for the winter.”  He waited for her to nod before continuing. “The Diocese has called Mrs. McCarthy to assist with some secretarial work in their offices for the next few months. As a result, there will be several days a week that she will be unavailable to complete her usual duties. I would consider it a tremendous favor if you would fill in the gap.  You would stay at the Presbytery of course, and there would be a small wage involved for incidentals.”</p>
<p>Trying to keep her face neutral, Sister Boniface nodded as she looked down at her folded hands.  “Of course, Father.  I would be happy to help. If Mother Augustin is willing to release me from my duties in the convent, that is.””</p>
<p>“I appreciate your concern, Sister. The convent will be fine, and dividing your duties among our numbers should be no trouble.  Father Brown has requested that you begin your duties immediately.  Would twenty minutes give you enough time to pack and get ready?</p>
<p>Rising, Sister Boniface kept her eyes on the floor as she turned and walked out the door.  Hurrying down the long, empty corridor toward her room, she finally allowed her face to split into a wide smile.</p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>The Presbytery was warm, so very warm.  After so many years in the freezing cold stone walls and floors of the convent, Sister Boniface had never dreamed that she would ever feel truly warm again.  Letting her bare feet sink into the thick pile carpet and climbing into her soft bed with a warm duvet, she let herself relax and closed her eyes to give thanks for the way her life had changed.  As she worked her way through the list of people she gave prayers of thanks for the people who had come into her life. As she prayed for Inspector Valentine, she wondered when she would see him again.  After their rather flirty conversation (was it flirty?  She had so little experience in this area, but it felt flirty, maybe a little bit) she had only seen him a handful of times, and always with one of the Sisters nearby. In her pre-convent days, she had dated of course. More than 12 years had passed since then, though.  She was so out of touch with the real world. Not that they would ever be anything more than friends, of course.</p>
<p>The next morning, she was up early and hurried through her morning routine. Admittedly, she would have loved to stay under the warm shower, but wanted to save some hot water for the Father when he rose. Dressing quickly, she tried to tiptoe down the stairs to begin breakfast preparations. Glancing at the leather folio she had brought down without thinking, she set it aside in order to begin looking in the cupboards. Setting out the food, she sat down with the outline of her as yet untitled and unfinished novel.  Around an hour later, she heard the Father moving around upstairs.  She had just flipped the bacon and cracked some eggs in the pan when she heard him descend the stairs.</p>
<p>“Good morning Father.”</p>
<p>He greeted her somewhat less cheerfully than she expected. Who would have thought that the perpetually smiling man was a morning grouch?</p>
<p>Once he was midway through his first cup of coffee and half of his breakfast, his good cheer was restored. Of course, this meant that his curiosity was as well.</p>
<p>“May I ask about your folio?” The Father gestured to the item lying on the table. Boniface was pleased to note that he didn’t open it, but merely inquired.</p>
<p>Boniface blushed.  “I have been working on writing a mystery. During my free time of course. I haven’t neglected any of my work. Honestly, I haven’t even started writing it yet; I’m just planning it, really.” She hastened to reassure the man, but he waved away her growing panic.</p>
<p>“I imagine any mystery you write would be successful, Sister.” He looked over his spectacles, eyes twinkling. “Perhaps we should invite Inspector Valentine over for dinner after Mass so you can ask him questions.” He paused in thought. “Perhaps this might not be best, as Mrs. McCarthy wouldn’t want such conversation over her Sunday roast. Never fear. We will think of a plan.”</p>
<p>She nodded, feeling her cheeks flush. The Father studied her carefully before nodding to himself. </p>
<p>“Are you ready to leave, Sister?”</p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>Despite Father Brown’s rater ample size, Boniface quickly came to realize he was far more fit than he appeared.</p>
<p>Cycling in the crisp air, they covered what felt like every corner of the town, visiting new parents, the homebound and the lonely. Finally pedaling up the long driveway to the Montague estate, Boniface was sweating heavily despite the cold. Father Brown seemed to be barely affected. Sending up a brief prayer that Lady Felicia wouldn't be the difficult woman she was rumored at the convent to be, she followed the priest inside.<br/>
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>Lunch at Montague was wonderful: chicken with autumn vegetables and an apple tart. Lady Felicia was an elegant lady; albeit one who was a bit more…well, something than one might expect her to be.  Bunty was thrilled to have a somewhat younger member of the close knit circle; Boniface found her outrageous and outspoken- the way she would have loved to be had her life taken a different course. Bunty regaled them with a party she had been to the night before. Beneath the party girl facade, Boniface suspected there was an intelligent and driven woman.</p>
<p>“I slapped him in the face for being so forward, and then got out of there. The cheek of the man! He was old enough to be my uncle.” Bunty punctuated her story with a toss of her head and a look of utter disgust. Privately, Boniface agreed. She kept her eyes lowered to the table, but Bunty caught her small smile and giggled.</p>
<p>“Sister, I was just telling the Father that if you wanted to, you could borrow one of the cars for your rounds. The weather is turning colder, and I would hate the thought of you getting hypothermia.” Lady Felicia regarded the younger woman with a warm smile as she changed the subject smoothly.</p>
<p>“Alas, I have no driving license. I can drive a tractor, of course. One has to be able to do so in the vineyards. But I have never learned to drive a car.” She had always wanted to learn to drive properly, but the situation had never presented itself.</p>
<p>“I can teach you! It will be such fun! Boniface and Windemere on the open road!” Bunty’s cheerful voice cut in, before being drowned out by protests from the rest of the table-including Sid the chauffeur who looked a bit panicked at the idea. Even Father Brown had gone a bit pale.</p>
<p>“Perhaps we should begin by having Sister Boniface go to the police station to register for a permit. Then we can arrange for driving lessons with qualified drivers. However, I regret that we will need to leave now if we intend to finish our rounds before dark.”</p>
<p>Bunty called to them as they approached the front door, hurrying down the stairs to wrap a warm scarf around Boniface’s neck and handed her a pair of gloves. Boniface could smell a faint whiff of perfume on the scarf-it had been so long since she had worn any kind of scent.</p>
<p>“You are going to freeze, Sister.”  Boniface smiled shyly, and Lady Felicia nodded in agreement.</p>
<p>“Absolutely.  We are leaving for London tomorrow to see Bunty’s parents, and will see if we can find you some warm undergarments. You’ll need them until you get your license.” She shook her head at Boniface’s protests. “No, Sister. You are doing our community a great favor by helping the Father with his rounds.  It’s the least we can do.”</p>
<p> Boniface reveled in her warm scarf and gloves from her new friend as she once again struggled to keep up with the remarkably agile priest.</p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>Sister Boniface looked around nervously as she waited for her turn at the front desk at the police station. She tried not to notice that the volume in the room had dropped considerably, and she could feel the stares. The man in front of her stepped away and she shuffled forward.  Only two more people in front of her.  She was beginning to think this was a really bad idea. Her heart was pounding and she thought she might actually be shaking a little. She clutched her leather folio tightly. How would she get Inspector Valentine to answer her questions? Would it be rude to ask him to answer her questions while he was at work? Should she make an appointment? If so, should she use his private number, or call the station to be official?</p>
<p>“Sister Boniface?”</p>
<p>Turning at the familiar voice, she was still surprised to see the man currently occupying her thoughts standing in the doorway holding a file. He looked quite handsome today, a navy suit with a pinstriped tie that brought out his remarkably blue eyes.</p>
<p>“Good morning Inspector.” She managed to keep her voice calm; at least she thought she did. It had been weeks since she had seen him; she had forgotten how much she missed it.</p>
<p>“Is there something you need?  If you’re here to step in for Father Brown and his constant meddling, he has truly stooped to a new low to use you.” His voice was gruff, irritated for some reason.</p>
<p>“No, Inspector.” She looked down at the floor, her voice quiet. The panic was rising in her throat.  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to flee or burst into tears.She felt frozen in place. Valentine had never spoken to her like this. He was one of the people he most looked forward to seeing out in the world.  Every time she heard Mrs McCarthy tell her that her best effort wasn’t good enough, every time she had to ignore the stares and whispers of the ignorant wondering why she was living with a celibate priest, she thought of the time when she could spend time with Valentine and it would all be worth it.</p>
<p> A wave of nausea rolled her stomach. She hated crowds and staring. She was no good with people. This was why she lived behind the walls of the convent where she could be alone. Tears welled in her eyes. Lord, please let her not cry in front of all of these people. Suddenly, she noticed that the room had gone completely silent. No one moved. Finally an older woman spoke up, her voice irritated.</p>
<p>“Really, Inspector. You may not be a religious man, but you can at least show some respect to a Sister? Or is this how the police treat decent women now?” A low rumbling of agreement seemed to fill the room. Even the constables behind the desk seemed shocked.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry.  I just need to…” The panic induced paralysis had faded, and now getting out of this over-hot, over crowded room was the only thing on her mind.  Turning, she stepped out of line, hurrying out the door, down the steps and out of the building.  She faintly heard the Inspector calling her name, but she didn’t stop.  She was practically running now, mindless of the directive of Mother Augustin that “a Sister should move slowly and with confidence, as she is one of God’s representatives on earth.” All she wanted to do was get back to the Presbytery and the silence of the kitchen so she could settle herself. She had the afternoon off and intended to work on her novel, and perhaps ask the Inspector a list of questions she had carefully written out if he had time. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen now. There were other chores, of course.  She needed to make some biscuits for the African Sewing Circle tomorrow and deliver the hemmed trousers for a boy in town whose legs had grown more quickly than the family’s finances to afford new ones. </p>
<p>Realizing Mrs. McCarthy would be in the Presbytery this afternoon (hence Boniface’s afternoon off), Boniface turned away just before reaching the small lane that led to her sanctuary. No doubt, someone had already informed Mrs. McCarthy about her panic attack in the police station and running out like the demons of hell were at her heels. There was no way she could go back there with the older woman’s nosy questions. She just couldn’t do it. How humiliating.  Could she not behave like other nuns? Even their novitiate Sister Ruth carried herself with the otherworldly calm Sisters everywhere were supposed to have. </p>
<p>Wiping a fresh set of tears from her eyes, she walked the streets aimlessly. Twice, she saw a police constable and ducked out of sight before they her. Finally finding the library, she walked in and took a deep breath as the calm and silence enveloped her. Her pulse slowed and her breathing evened out. Libraries always had this effect on her. When she was a child, she had run to the library to avoid her parents arguments; hiding in the back until the librarian came to tell her that they were closing and that she would need to leave. She should always feel that calm, the older Sisters had told her. She shouldn’t give in to the panic attacks, indulgent feelings when there were so many others who had real problems. </p>
<p>She tried, she really did. But the memories of humiliation at not having shoes or the looks of pity from her teachers when her mother had come to get her from school still in her housecoat and disheveled, reeking of drink still plagued her when she was embarrassed. Her first Order had drilled the thoughts into her: “What makes you think that you deserve to be special?” Feeling the panic rise again, she moved to the bookshelves, running her fingers along the spines. The familiar action and touch soothed her. Now breathing steadily, she picked a book at random and found a seat in a quiet corner of the room.</p>
<p>Looking down at the book she had chosen, “The Language of Flowers,” she opened the book and began to read, lost in other people’s words and the secret messages of an innocent looking bloom.</p>
<p>___________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>It was dark when she finally left the library, laden down with books.  There were a surprising amount of books for such a small building; she found a number of titles that would help her with the novel. She had also come to a decision: tomorrow, she would return to the police station and get her permit. What would Bunty have done this morning? She would have laughed it off, put Inspector Valentine in his place and walked out with her permit, head held high. Boniface made a mental note to ask Bunty about her confidence. Approaching the Presbytery, she saw the Inspector’s black car in the lane. Mrs. McCarthy’s worried voice rising in volume echoed out the front door.  </p>
<p>“It’s dark out.  Where in the world is she? Father, you need to call Sidney and have him drive around to find her.  Should I call the convent? Maybe she went back there.”</p>
<p> “I am strong. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. I will not be bullied or intimidated,” she muttered.Adjusting the pile of books in her arms, she reached for the doorknob.</p>
<p>_____________________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p>Inspector Valentine sat at the worn kitchen table, pinching between his eyes to stave off the growing headache. Not that he believed in penance, but this must surely be what it felt like. He felt practically nauseous at the thought that Sister Boniface could be lost or hurt.  She was a cloistered nun for goodness sake.  What did she know of the world?</p>
<p>“Inspector Valentine, she will be fine.” Father Brown looked at him sympathetically. “Although Sister Boniface is cloistered now, she grew up in East London. She is far tougher than her kind appearance might imply.”</p>
<p>Valentine looked at the older man in surprise. “You’re joking.” That sweet woman, surrounded by the violence and poverty of the streets? He had always imagined her as a farmer’s daughter, loved and cosseted by her family. He had been a constable in East London for six months and couldn’t transfer fast enough. Even his modest working class childhood in the north of England had seemed like paradise compared to the horrors he had seen in the bombed out buildings and desperate families willing to do anything to earn a few coins. This new knowledge threw what he thought he knew about her off kilter. Absently rubbing his left thumb against his ring finger, he closed his eyes again.</p>
<p>The knob turned and Boniface walked in, laden down with about a dozen books and an expression of utter serenity. Rising quickly to his feet,  Valentine reached for the heavy books.  She brushed past toward the staircase, ignoring his outstretched arms.</p>
<p>“Inspector, I routinely carry heavy crates that weigh twice as much as these books without assistance. I am quite fine, I assure you.” The difference from the panicking, tearful woman of earlier in the day was profound. Where earlier today she had seemed fragile and frightened, she now had pulled herself together and looked like she could face down a firing squad.</p>
<p>“Young lady, where have you been? I was ready to call the police to find you.’ Mrs. McCarthy was red in the face. “So much trouble,” she muttered as she turned to wipe down the stove.</p>
<p>“Is the Inspector not a member of the police force?” Boniface fired back. “I seem to recall him investigating a murder case several months ago.” Apparently realizing that might have been a bit harsh, she closed her eyes briefly and visibly calmed herself. Mrs. McCarthy was just worried. More worried about what the convent might say if Boniface was found dead than her actual safety, but worried nonetheless. </p>
<p>“I was at the library and lost track of time. Today is my afternoon off, so I didn’t think it necessary to report in.” </p>
<p>“Yes, well. I heard all about the incident earlier today at the police station. Judge Jeffrey’s wife Vera was there putting up a flyer for the WI bake sale when it all happened. Imagine my horror when I heard about it from her instead of you. The entire town will think I just let you run wild.”</p>
<p>Father Brown opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Boniface started speaking.  </p>
<p>“Mrs. McCarthy, I am 38 years old. I don’t need a babysitter to watch over me. If Vera ran to you with such gossip, I would hope that you would defend me and my ability to look after myself before telling her to mind her own business. Gossip is sinful, and I would expect that a woman such as yourself would be above such nonsense. Did you defend me, or will I need to hear about this for the rest of the week on my rounds because the gossip has spread around the village?”</p>
<p>Valentine covered his grin with his tea cup, and a glance at Father Brown revealed he was doing the same. Mrs McCarthy was a prolific gossip, and had never been called to account so directly by someone whose spiritual alignment was unquestioned. He heard Mrs. McCarthy splutter, her cheeks pink. </p>
<p>“Well, you have missed dinner. We waited for you to return.” A level glance from the Sister caused her to backpedal. “I mean, we waited for about ten minutes. Father Brown was confident that you were fine so we just went on as planned.”  The older woman fidgeted with her dishtowel. “There aren’t any leftovers, I’m afraid. The Inspector had dinner with us, and…”. Realizing how that must sound, she flushed. “I mean to say, the casserole is not very good warmed up, so Inspector Valentine did us a favor. I can make you something if you’d like.” The last was said somewhat reluctantly; even the pseudo-oblivious Father Brown winced.</p>
<p>Boniface shook her head. “Thank you, but I stopped by the Red Lion and got fish and chips.” Valentine’s eyes widened, and he was speaking before his brain fully engaged.</p>
<p>“You went to the Red Lion? Sister, anything could have happened there. It’s not safe for a single woman to be out at night.” Truthfully, she was perfectly safe at this hour, but flashes of women reporting being drugged and waking up with no memory of the night before but missing several important bits of clothing ran through his mind.</p>
<p>She turned to him, addressing him directly for the first time. “Inspector, my father owned a pub in Whitechapel. I am well acquainted of the risks. The owner of the Red Lion had a pub near my parents before the war.” </p>
<p>Valentine held back a groan. She was so incredibly stubborn.  Still, he needed to apologize to her; his behavior toward her earlier in the day had been horrid, no matter that it was out of outrage for her.  He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling nervous.  Her books lay on the table, while she focused on filling the kettle for tea.  He looked around the table, realizing no one was inclined to allow them to speak privately.  Still, he wasn’t apologizing to her in front of a room full of people. It was none of their business.</p>
<p>Rising, he pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket. He hated that she was so cool toward him. He missed their friendly conversations, and had only stayed away from her after the discussion of the Lulu and Lucia book out of the completely inappropriate images burned into his mind. He had gone back to “their spot” a few times, but she hadn’t been there. Now, he desperately wanted to sit with her and just talk. She didn’t treat him as a potential love interest or someone to keep a distance from. He wanted to share a cigarette with her and discuss cases. Now that he knew she would be in the area for a few weeks, he was determined to be a frequent visitor at the Presbytery.</p>
<p>“Sister, would you come keep me company outside while I have a smoke?” He shook his packet invitingly. “The kettle won’t be boiling for a few minutes yet.”  Her expression was assessing as she nodded and reached for her cloak. Grabbing it before she could, he helped her put it on and the two walked out, ignoring Mrs McCarthy’s squeak of protest.</p>
<p>Once they were out of earshot (and view) walking in the churchyard, Valentine lit his cigarette and took a puff before holding it out to her. She hesitated for a second before taking it and taking a drag herself.  He felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. Now if he could just keep his nerve.</p>
<p>“B, I am so sorry for my reaction when I saw you today.” He hoped using her nickname would convey he was talking to B, not to Sister Boniface. It was an important distinction for him. He was apologizing to the woman, not the nun. “I didn’t know you were living at the Presbytery and I was startled to see you. It was a good thing,” he rushed on. “I miss our talks and I miss your laugh. When I saw you, I was afraid that the Father was taking advantage of my… preference for you for his own ends. I wanted to protect you. It just all came out wrong.”  He paused to smoke and grimaced. “Much like it is now.”</p>
<p>B’s voice was soft as she responded, and her voice was the most wonderful thing he had heard. “I missed you too.”  Preference? What did that mean?</p>
<p>Reflexively, he touched her cheek before dropping his hand.  They walked back into view of the  kitchen window, glancing at each other as they saw Mrs McCarthy looking out at them. “I have never seen anyone put Mrs M in her place as easily as you did.” He smiled, tapping the ash on his cigarette. Her giggle was unexpected.</p>
<p>“People are always so intimidated by her.  I have never understood why, really. She just needs to be reminded that she isn’t a priest. People aren’t required to listen to her.”  They turned  to walk behind some gravestones, and he handed her the cigarette for her to take the last puff before stubbing it out on a rock wall.  </p>
<p>His smile widened, then faded as he thought of something. “Why did you come into the police station?  Was it to see me? I saw you had your folio.”</p>
<p>She smiled sadly. “I came to apply for a driving permit. Winter is coming and I wanted to be able to drive Father Brown around instead of having to cycle everywhere.” After a moment of silence, she admitted “Also, I have a few questions to ask you for my book. Some of the books I borrowed from the library might help, but I want to make sure. That is, if you are willing to.”</p>
<p>“Of course.”  His heart was pounding just a little. How would they make this work? He wanted to spend time with her, but he knew Mrs McCarthy would watch them like a hawk. He didn’t want a chaperone. He wanted her to feel free to be herself; all innocence and strength. Also, he felt like he could tell her anything, which he wouldn’t if someone else was present. They turned toward the presbytery, watching Mrs M’s nose pressed against the window. A thought occurred to him.</p>
<p>“I could give you driving lessons. Snow should be only a month away, maybe two if you’re lucky. You’ll need to take your test before then.”</p>
<p>“Bunty has offered to teach me.  Also, the chauffeur that works for Lady Felicia has offered. I’m not sure he trusts Bunty.” </p>
<p>Valentine grimaced. “Bunty drives like a maniac. I can’t stop you from taking lessons from her, but you’ll need as much experience as possible with such a short deadline. If you aren’t comfortable with me, then…”</p>
<p>“No, I’m comfortable with you” she interrupted him. “I agree, I will need a lot of help.” Privately, he doubted it, but this meant he could spend more time with her. They had reached the door, which he opened for her.  Entering the warm kitchen, the kettle was whistling loudly. Neither of them had even bothered to take it off of the hob. He suspected his expression gave away his thoughts as Father Brown rose and reached for Mrs M’s coat. </p>
<p>“Mrs. McCarthy, you mentioned that you have an early start in the morning. I would hate to keep you up late. Sister Boniface and I will be fine here tonight.” He helped the protesting woman out the door down the hallway, leaving the two of them alone. Normally, he wouldn’t think anything of it, but now he felt like a teenager doing something illicit.  B seemed to be unaffected; at least till he saw her pink cheeks that he didn’t believe came entirely from the cold outside.</p>
<p>“Shall we plan to meet tomorrow evening after your rounds? If you stop by the station in the morning, we can get your permit taken care of.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure what time we will be finished. ”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you can call me when you get back.”</p>
<p>“We should be back by 4 or so. You can take Sister Boniface for her driving lesson, and then we can have dinner here. Unfortunately, Mrs McCarthy won’t be here tomorrow evening, but surely we can come up with something.” Father Brown had reappeared and was standing in the doorway, smiling at them. </p>
<p>“Of course, Father.  I can make a casserole that can be put in the oven when I get back.” Boniface was sure her face was pink, luckily she could blame it on coming in from the cold.</p>
<p>“Excellent. Would that work for you, Inspector?”</p>
<p>Valentine agreed and took his leave, glancing back at Boniface as he left. She was sitting at the table, and their eyes met as he closed the door.</p>
<p>______________________________________________________________</p>
<p>Coming up next: Driving lessons, and maybe a little bit of flirting?</p>
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